When I unfold my radiant new dawn <br />from the subcontinent's fragment <br />of golden earth, where Vedas <br />orginated as light house of knowledge <br />and there I experience the transient rays <br />of vision emerged from river banks of Sindu. <br />Near the foothills of Himalays <br />Rishis meditate to envisage <br />devout idioms of Yugas and from <br />the same mountain ranges <br />rivers flow down to cleanse unnourished <br />corners of instant ignorance. <br />In one gifted land of my origin, I breath <br />the pure essence of patriotic fragrance, <br />where in calmness, I sit and visualise <br />a language to converse which the external <br />layers need manwantharas to identify. <br />In quietude, songs of the soil of origin <br />transforms the matter in depth <br />and all around ocean and seas to guard <br />its distinct borders in magical radiance <br />to protect the songs of patriotic feelings... <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Jan 3,2009<br /><br />Rema Prasanaa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/songs-of-origin/
